Spring Fever!!

Evening everyone!

I can't speak for you, but I caught spring fever last week.  What does that mean?  Well for ME it means that I had a LOT of extra energy.  It happens every year.  The planet rejuvenates, the birds sing, and my ass is awake anywhere between 4 and 5:30 am.

And more often than not NOTHING gets me back to sleep.

I've come to expect this annual semi-hypomanic state (awful phrasing I know, but accurate for my symptoms) and learned to adjust accordingly.  Friends and family notice it, and I often enjoy it.  By 'it' I don't mean the hypo-mania* as much as the reawakening of the earth.  It's truly something I adore.  The sights and smells.  The grass renewing so I can enjoy walking barefoot on it.  The thunderstorms . . .

Spring is my time.  I enjoy fall as well, but spring wins hands-down.  It signals an end to the dearth of winter, and my SAD markedly improves.  The really challenging/frustrating thing is that I often can't get to sleep at night.  I'll be up since 5am, put in a long and busy day, often very physically active, and be lying there at midnight unable to sleep.  Why?  Well, it's very similar to when my Aunt Juba goes to Vegas.  She canNOT sleep there.  As she says: "They're having fun without me"

Yup.  The planet is getting happy, and I get happy with it.

Not sleeping can be anywhere from annoying and tiring, to exhausting and dangerous.  But as I said, I've learned to deal with it.  I often get a lot accomplished**.  For example, earlier last week I got a LOT of drafts either finished or started for YOU, dear readers.  Many of them are blasts from the past, but still relevant.

This past Friday and Saturday (March 16 & 17) is a very good example, in terms of rest and extra energy both.  I woke up at 4am.  I lay there unable to get back to sleep.  I listened to the birds, heard my one room mate get up at 5:30 and shower, and then his fiance at 6:30 and shower.  The water running must have helped me drift back down because I didn't hear them leave and lock up.  I rewoke at 7:45 cranky and tired.  I know I didn't get all the way down into REM from how my brain was functioning.  But I said fuck it and got up.

A girlfriend, Felicia, called me for our semi-regular morning chats.  We usually get one in on Thursday or Friday as she drives to work.  Thursdays I don't have to be anywhere until 1pm, and my Fridays are always in flux. So we usually get one visit in per week.  We had about an hour of talking, and then it was OFF to the races.

AAAAAAALLLLLLLL day I baked, and cleaned, and did laundry.  I found my bedroom floor.  Even disassembled and washed, then reassembled (the difficult part) all my dog's bedding.

Four o'clock rolled around and since I didn't want to stop without finishing all my tasks, I was running late.  My monthly, para-professional community event started at 7.  Doors open at 6 and I usually arrive before that to help set up.  But I didn't make it there until 6:45.  Thankfully my friends didn't mind.  I had a wonderful time, but I was exhausted.  Got home around midnight, and to sleep approximately 1:30 Saturday morning.  Well, I can't know that for sure, but that's the last time I remember seeing on the clock.  I slept poorly and had bad dreams as I had all week, only to be up again at 7:30 and out the door at 9:30.  This time attending a para-professional expo during the day and religious gathering in the evening.

I currently down own a car, so I rely on mass transit.  It could be better here, but I'm thankful to have what we do.  1-3 routes come within a mile of my house depending on the day/time.  I can typically get everywhere I need to be within 90 minutes, and I've learned to use that as my mental down time.  Or chat time with friends via text.  I can't read/study on the bus; I get nauseous and a horrible headache.  Saturday morning/afternoon taking the bus to and from my destination only would have saved me 5 minutes  Since I walk quickly I opted to walk.  Then I wouldn't have to deal with timing my departure to coincide with schedules.  It was just under 2 miles and a beautiful day (though I did get soaked on the way home).  I was DRAGGING by the time I left at 2pm, having been on my feet consistently since 9:30.

My friend Bobby (married to Felicia) was there Saturday and had also attended the event Friday night.  When I got home (and texted him to let him know I was safe) he expressed concern about me going to my religious gathering.  Especially given it meant yet another long commute.   Especially since I only had 90 minutes of down time before leaving again.  Plus, said down time had to include a playing with J and getting ready.  I took his point; it was valid and he was worried about me.  But there are only 8 sabbats/year and I knew that if I didn't go I'd regret it.  I needed the worship, community and fun.  I needed the emotional and spiritual energy tune-up.

And besides, I assured him, I'd already arranged for a ride home.

Saturday formally ended when I got home at 11:30 pm and collapsed into bed.  Thankfully I finally slept well and was able to sleep until I woke naturally.  But my MIND wasn't tired.  Granted I was dragging mentally Friday night, and late Saturday night, but I was still lucid.  Sunday my legs were really aching.  Annoying but a good sign.  It means my body is adjusting, and the mania*** was starting to wane.

Today is Wednesday and so far it has been a hectic week.  I am sleeping better, and my rest has greatly improved.  Monday night I slept SO hard/deeply, that I stumbled around the first several minutes when I got up Tuesday morning.  If you read my Tuesday post, you know I had a rough evening (on Monday).  All part of the process/disease.  The intense crying Monday night probably helped tire me out so that I slept better.  I had two 'mountaintop experiences', as my father would say, over the weekend.  Using a LOT of mental and physical energy.  Hypomania was DEFINITELY involved.  That takes a toll on body and spirit.  So part of Monday night was the pendulum swinging back.  But I'm still here, still keepin' on.  As far as I'm concerned, other options aren't relevant.

And today I learned that as of midterm I have straight A's.  WOOT!  Time for the Snoopy dance!




*Mania, in it's varying levels of intensity, often feels GOOD.  It's one reason why people with mental illness don't take their meds.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't enjoy the sensation and effects on occasion.  But once the pendulum starts one way, it CAN get out of control, and very quickly, for anyone.


**another component of mania that is often enjoyed-- the productivity.  Although, it's not always GOOD work, and things started during these phases often go unfinished for many people.


***it's very important as one starts down the recovery road to know how your body responds and your thoughts change.  self-awareness keeps you safe and healthy.

and a final note on mania-- mania has varying degrees of intensity and severity.  While most commonly thought of in people with severe bipolar disorder (formally manic-depression), it is found in people with other psychiatric challenges.  Many people without bi-polar disorder may have episodes of mania, even those NOT on the mood disorder spectrum.

My Kinda Person!!!!

Today's post is a blast from the past-- January of 2009 to be specific.  I found this old entry a few weeks ago, and pulling out this happy memory helps me smile.  It tells the tale of a positive experience I had out in public with J.

Here's a little vignette that occurred last week. Maybe you'll appreciate it as much as I enjoyed the experience.

I'm in one of those modes--being winter and all--that I really need to LEAVE the house to get much of anything accomplished.  Case in point--- I have a LOT of writing and intentional energy work to do, but if I don't GO somewhere to sit and work, it's not happening.

So last Thursday night J and I went out to Uncle Bill's, a local 24-hour pancake place.  They've been in business FOREVER and are only 3 miles from our apartment.  I really like the atmosphere there. Anyway, we walk in around 11:30 and the on-duty waitress was up at the front.

I said, "one two-leg and one-four leg please."

Without pause she asked, "and do you, or does the dog, smoke?"

WOW!

She was so good and so fast, it took me a moment to respond.  Talk about a sense of humor.  She was a delight.  We chatted a bit through her shift.  But seriously, MY kind of gal.  I wish her all the best and hope to be lucky enough to find more folks like her in the coming weeks.

It was so LOVELY to go into a restaurant and NOT be questioned about J that night.  She was fully dressed in service dog regalia per always, and that was all the waitress needed to see or know.  She didn't ask any rude or inappropriate questions-- SCORE!!!  She even inquired if J needed water, and we went back regularly to Uncle Bill's when we lived in that part of town.  Interestingly, sometimes it's the mom and pop establishments that are more accommodating.  Maybe they know the law better, or maybe they're just NICER.  Word of mouth keeps them in business, after all.

What do you think?

M. from Omaha

today's entry is again a blast from the past.  I originally journalled this back in summer 2006.  Looking at it now, I can see how early I was in my fledgling recovery.  Some of the themes still hit close to home on bad days, but also shows me how far I've come in the years since.  I think it will give many of you insight into how I process things.  And how much of an utterly clueless DORK I can be when it comes to the opposite sex.  Intellectualizing everything usually isn't the smartest course of action.  Interesting as I read it now, I wonder if I was trying to convince myself, or the all-knowing journal-person.  It feels maudlin, reading it now, but it's how I felt at that time. 

and remember kids-- feelings are neither good nor bad, they just are.

Well, it was fun while it lasted.

I joined a social networking service (emphasis on dating) in March.  Thus far it hasn’t yielded many results.  But that’s neither here nor there.  In May I started communication with M. from Omaha.  I thought this one had potential.

M. is intelligent, educated, articulate, cultured, funny, a successful businessman. But the real kickers------------he loves to ballroom dance and is a UU.  I can’t remember the last time I went dancing, just how sorely I miss it.  I know it was back during my junior year of college, and that’s been six years now.  Happily, as a Unitarian his philosophy would be VERY compatible with my pagan faith.

We had amazing conversations.  He was a wonderful flirt.  A friend of mine refers to it as “intellectual foreplay”.  Very accurate statement.  He stimulated my mind in challenging and delightful ways.  And the flirting was something I’ve nearly forgotten.  Certainly enjoyed it.   It’s been a long time since I’ve had a man express appreciation for me as a woman.  In ANY respect, let alone been able to access my mind at the same time.  The substance of our communiqués was sustaining on several levels.

But a little over two weeks ago, he finally asked about J.  While we hadn’t as of yet discussed particulars, I’m kind of confused how he missed her.  Must not have been paying attention.  I mention her right on my profile page.  The section specifically states “List three things in your life for which you are most thankful”.  I listed “my Labrador J”. After the Ren. faire at Jubilee I vented a bit about while the day was fun, she had been a nightmare.  He questioned who she was.

I was short and candid--------------J is my seven year old yellow Labrador.  She is also my service dog. Are you scared now?

The inevitable response came------------Are you blind?

I kept my answer brief but detailed.  Emphasized the positive such as my stability, careful planning, docs, support system.  Used the metaphor of denying a Type I diabetic her insulin.   I also enclosed several files of reading material. From laity to professional grade intel, complete with graphics.  Told him to digest and feel free to ask any Q’s he has.

And I haven’t heard from him since.

At the 8 day mark last week I send him a short missive.   The standard how are you, how you been, haven’t heard from you, hope you’re well, etc.  It has been over a week yet again, and I’m fairly certain he’s a lost cause.

I’m afraid I can’t suppress my disappointment.

I can completely understand how someone does not wish to pursue a relationship with someone differently-abled in the clinical sense of the term.  I know I do not.  While some may feel that I am being <fit negative adj here> in this desire, it is more a case of self-preservation.   I know I need a certain amount of stability and support.   I need a partner to be able to provide that on a consistent basis.  Bare fact.  An individual who has a certain degree of severity regarding their own challenges would not be able to provide that.  Neither he nor I need that stress and heartache.  Especially considering that mental illness can easily become short term, long term, or permanently disabling depending upon how the fates have aligned.

There is a part of me that wonders that if I fall into the abyss again, if I’ll be able to get back out.   It gets old, and more difficult each time.  And I get tired.  So very tired of fighting the good fight every single day.   I highly doubt my parents could survive me fully tanking again.  It would probably kill my mother.

I promised myself I would never be re-admitted to a psych ward.  And I meant it. I would rather “go home” permanently than be that sick again.  For the record, I self-admitted. So part of me was thinking wisely.  **

While I give thanks that my health has been fairly stable for a few years now, it was not always so.  There were YEARS when I was non-functional, to varying degrees of time and severity.   I’d stop eating, bathing, communicating with others.  Sleeping 18 hours a day only to get up to semi-watch tv was fairly common.  Having a basement apartment 10 miles from campus was one of the more foolish decisions I have made in the last ten years.  I depend on my support system at unpredictable times.

J does quite a bit, but she doesn’t talk, and can’t dole out pills.   Though she can bring them to me as well as water if told to do so.   Of course, I have to be VERBAL ENOUGH to give her the commands.  I forget how bad it can get, even for 24 hours, if I’m not mindful of it.  No amount of chemicals can fix everything, or keep me on the straight path by itself for any long stretch of time.

So I understand his decision.   I can’t help being hurt by it.   It’s discouraging.  And I feel that he could have had the courtesy to at least inform me that he was no longer interested.  It’s taken me a VERY long time to feel worthy of a partner despite my illness. Fairly consistent work for a good two years now.  This development doesn’t help that self-esteem issue.

I suppose what makes me so sad some times, like this evening, is how I see how others’ lives are unfolding.  I keep running into high school friends/acquaintances who are partnering up, starting families.  Quite a few have been married for years and have multiple children.   I have two adopted nieces and one nephew among my inner circle.  Ages 18 months to five.   Close friends who are very content with their partners.   Good, stable marriages, many of which are true mated pairings.   I can’t help feeling that I got left behind.

Feeling this way is a major pain in the ass. I do not regret the path I chose.  I was not ready for a long-term partner or a family earlier, even before the disease took control.  I am only now getting to that point.  I was education/career focused for a VERY long time.  Very one track mind.  Fairly ironic since I currently have neither career nor college degree.  Ten years ago I’d have thought I’d have my PhD and be working on tenure at a good university by now.  I wanted to be well-established before I thought about a major evolution in my personal life.  And I am thankful that I had the wisdom to NOT attempt either a physical or romantic partner during the times that I was NOT stable enough to maintain myself, let ALONE a relationship.

No one wants their partner to fall apart.   It’s hard when it happens, and not everyone has the strength to see it through.  And no one with a fair amount of wisdom chooses someone who is ill to the point of disability.  And I mean dis-ability, not someone functional who has a physical/mental challenge.  That one is my harsh vision of reality.  Feel free to disagree, but please don’t beat me up about it.  I know some people are capable of giving that much.  I am NOT, nor I don’t WANT to try.  At least not this lifetime.

That is why it has been so hard for me to even fathom someone wanting to be involved with me.

The last psuedo-date I had was over a year ago.  It wasn’t really a romantic relationship.  He is a very good friend with whom I had a “special friends” arrangement.  Our benefits were limited in scope and frequency.  Over time the situation caused me more pain than fulfilment.  Being a place-holder for someone who you KNOW doesn’t want everything with you in the long run…………… After a while my emotional needs just weren’t getting met.  We used each other as surrogates, and we both knew it.  Me more than him.  I walked into it eyes open, albeit not cognizant of the possible repercussions.  He is one of my closest friends, we love each other dearly, and are in regular contact.  We both suffer with him now living out of state.

This wanting a relationship is a new feeling for me, and I’m not quite sure how to handle it.   Ever since I reprogrammed the whole Western “you must have a wife/husband to be happy” mentality in early college it hasn’t been an issue. Next I tackled the “you must find your one, true soulmate to feel complete." Interesting that I am no longer satisfied to be a single female.   I don’t know how much of it is loneliness.   Maybe because I’m approaching 30.  Maybe because I can’t remember the last date I had.  I know there is a part of me that sorely misses the emotional intimacy that comes from dating someone.  Being around happy couples frustrates the hell out of me some days.

I really don’t know.  Thankfully, I get fulfilment and satisfaction from many things in my current life.  I am still balanced enough to feel complete without having that elusive partner.  If that changes, I will REALLY be in trouble.

** "go home" is a phrase referring to death.  Go home, to where one is pain-free be with those who you love and have gone before.

The Pond is Still

Today's post comes from a journal entry I originally wrote back in late May/early June of 2005.  J had been with me for about 9 months, and I had returned to work full time in late March.  It was a big adjustment, and very tiring.  I was working in a call center with all the fun that entails.  ;)  The company was very good to us, and gave me all the help and reasonable accommodations that I could have wished.

I had been having a few bad weeks, not sleeping well at ALL.  It was starting to impact my work and creating social problems for me at the office.

The only blessing I can see to being so heavily drugged, is that I slept straight through the night for the first time in over a month.   Don't particularly care for the zonked out, OD feeling I'm experiencing.  I'm overly calm and quiet on the phone, not myself at all.   I understanding how Shawn used to complain about being over-medicated when we were kids, feeling trapped inside your head yet outside your body.

I couldn't move quickly it I wanted to.  I just need to trust that the doc knows what he's doing with these significant med increases.  He even added a strong neural depressant--which I think is the main reason for this continual stupor. Maybe in a few days my system will adjust.  God I HOPE so!  I feel like an exhausted shell of myself.   Unable to even hold my head up and stare down the jerks who rudely spoke to and stared at me yesterday.  I don't even have pride to fall back on in this state.

I lay down for 10 minutes, the last few of my lunch break, and ended up sleeping for over 45!  My supervisor is going to kill me.  Especially after the lecture I got just last week on schedule adherence.

Phillip's been taking J out to the bathroom as I sit here like worthless bump on a chair.  Out of sorts--as Phillip puts it--doesn't even begin to scratch the surface.   It feels as though it takes eons for a single coherent thought to bubble up from the depths of my mind.

The pond is still, unnaturally so,
so that any breeze ruffling through the surrounding trees doesn't disturb the water.

The night is dark, no moon
                                              or stars,
and yet there is a faint light to see by.
No animals--

nothing stirs.


Just my barren, darkened mind
                                                         trying
to product thoughts,
wasting for lack of light.


Longing for sleep, yet
                                           fearing what comes
with true consciousness,
the realizations of pain caused.


Blissfully, another pill sinks beneath the surface of the pond.
For here pain is
                              dulled
                                                 and guilt
cannot intrude.

the J-girl

Throughout the course of these posts I plan to keep friends and family as anonymous as possible.  I shall probably choose monikers for the regularly featured cast.  With that I may create a list of players, but let's jump off that bridge when it comes.

I DO want to introduce someone special at this point, dear readers, before we get too far into our relationship.  I have a very special lady in my life, J.  She is my now-retired, psychiatric service dog.  She's pushing 12 and has been with me over seven years now.  She has, and continues to be, integral to my recovery.  At some point she WILL crop up in posts, so I thought to introduce her now.

She was trained through a program in Ohio named Assistance Dogs of America, Inc.  ADAI linked up the program I applied to in Indiana, Paws and Think.  Thanks to the work of individuals in both states, I brought my J home over Labor Day weekend, 2004.

I wanted to give a shout out to both of those wonderful programs, who helped me find the partner of a lifetime.  Also, there is a program in Virginia that SPECIFICALLY trains companion and service dogs for people with psychiatric disorders.  Psychiatric Service Dog Society

A dog that works as a psych animal is similar to animals used for seizure alert-- they can undergo the most rigorous training and behave beautifully, but if they don't have that unquantifiable 6th sense then they can't specialize into psych populations.

I will likely discuss her often, so look forward to doggie posts!  In the meantime, please enjoy looking at these pages:

Bergin University of Canine Studies

Service Dog Tasks for Psychiatric Disabilities

ADA Service Dog Regulations

Renting and Housing Rights for Service Dog Handlers

smart dog. annoying, but smart

Yesterday I didn't have to be up at any set time.  I went to bed at a reasonable hour and let myself sleep until I naturally work.  I probably got close to ten hours sleep.  It was HEAVENLY.

So I got up to let out J, my dog, and feed her.  The weather looked promising (turned out to be a lovely day), so I left the door to the back door open for her.  That way she could go in and out as she pleased.  I did that a lot later in the fall last year when the bugs were no longer an issue.  She would go outside for a bit to enjoy the weather, come inside to check on me, then head back out for another 20ish minutes.

As much as she loves being outside, she gets persnickety sometimes about not willing to be out there without me.  Yesterday morning was one of those days. 

Feeling deliciously relaxed, I decided to go back to bed.  I left the door open for J.  Instead of every 20-30 minutes, she was coming back in every 2-3 minutes.  I could hear her 'click click clicking' on the tile.  Down the hall into our room and back.  I finally sat up and said "In or OUT, make up your mind!"

She just looked at me in the way only she can do.  Almost like a mother scolding.  Seeming to say, "you really SHOULD be up.  and you should ALSO be outside playing with me."  In many ways, this being is smarter than I.  She knew exactly what she was doing.

So I got up, shut the door,

and went back to bed.  She settled on her cushion with a petulant sigh, and I got 90 more minutes of quality rest.  ;)